This side of Truth
by pennydoesdropzone
Summary: AU. OotP. Multiple PoV's. Focus is on the relationships Harry has with Remus and Sirius seen through their own perspectives and through those of the Order. Not cannon, but close enough.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Potter; but I was once owned by it.

* * *

A Sad View of Summer

He eyes were the only green thing living. The village was roasting away on the stove top of the ghastly summer heat. Long shadows carved lines into the old churchyard. Among the dried pigeon shit and dust he sat. Cotton mouth had him yearning for a drink of water but the tap by the bench behind the hedge was worthless. Not a drop of rain; odd for England. He wiped at the sweat that ran hairline to nose. His back stiff from the crouching; his head still kickin' after last night's binge with his mates Ash and Bartholomew. A nice piece of Romanian pewter lay red hot in his pocket…the sooner he got a price for it from Borgin the better. What he wouldn't give for a change to buy Sarah Cooper from Beeston a drink or two and maybe talk her into telling him about that shipment of Ironbelly scales that went missing from the IWICT dock in Liverpool last May. Could fetch a good coin or two that could...Another drop of sweat dislodged itself from his mop, streaked past his ear and joined others like it in the wrinkled skin of his chin fat. It was stuffy under the cloak and nightfall wasn't helpin' a bit. What he wouldn't give for a pint and a tart….gods!

Sigh. He leaned back into the hedge.

Mundungus couldn't wait no-more for someone to relieve him of the watch; the bloody boy just sat there 'mist the cracked gravestones in the old sodding churchyard with the most delectable fag dangling absently from his cut lips. What a twit! Was he bonkers!? It was getting late and the sooner Harry went home where he could be comfortable and safe; the sooner Dung could get to London. A sharp metallic clang broke the thick warm air's oppression. His heart skipped and stumbled forward a few beats. Dung forced a deep steadying breath, turned his head to look around suspiciously. He was ready to face the source of the noise. His wand pulled itself free from his sleeve by his grimy fingers. The pub was a roar a few houses down, no cars, an old couple walking the dog…from behind the poplar tree a rustling….into the churchyard two blokes came hooded headed for the garden shed behind the chapel. Dung squinted at them. They were staggering, a bit pissed and - holding hands…Dung felt a bit unsettled by that, he always had felt awkward about that sort of thing. His mum had taught him never to make an issue of it though, never voice the discomfort. Her brother had been a poofter after all.

Dung felt his heart sink comfortably to its original position. He looked back to Potter. Behind him the violent struggle of a muggle against an old rotted door…the bursts of uncomfortable sounds suddenly falling to a low level of noise similar to that ff cars driving on the bypass in the distance or the dull beat of pub music bleating into the airspace 'bove the village council houses just a couple meters away. Potter had noticed the men and had slid slowly toward the ground, now lying on his back; hiding. Dung could see how the boy stared curiously through gaps in the gravestones at the dark shed; probably hadn't seen much. His green eyes flickered with suspicion and curiosity. The bleeding had at least stopped, Dung thought now having a better view. The boy had his ass handed to him by his cousin - back of the chippy earlier. The front of the boy's shirt and its one sleeve were red with bright blood still wet. Dung sorta enjoyed that part of the evening 'least; was a good fight till that right hook knocked potter clean off his feet. Dumbledore had him on a promise to keep out of Potter's hair unless death eaters were snooping round…Potter sure had a lot of hair tho'. _The kid was a mess_. The first week had been rather exiting. Guarding Harry Potter and all! But to be honest Potters life wasn't all too fun to watch play out. It was depressing to constantly contemplate how miserable the kid looked; how angry Potter got. Two nights ago the boy went mental on a trashcan after a verbal row of note with his uncle. Potter spent most of his time sulking in alleys, this graveyard and in the park. He had played football once or twice with some local kids which ended after Harry lost it at a boy who had pulled on his shirt. The boy's fuse was short. _Not much of a hero._

A stifled moan entered the graveyard radiating from the shed... Comprehension dropped an egg onto Potter's face and Dung suppressed a snigger at the sudden jumpy actions of the teen. His resolve to sulk in the shadows was broken. He tucked the cigarette into the nest of his unkempt unwashed black hair and then with a heave…Harry got up, trying his best to avert his eye from the shed. He walked quickly; out from among the graves, down the pathway and through the gate into Index Street. Dung followed happily, his legs glad for the chance of movement, having been cramped up in an awkward huddle between a hedge and some old muggel's grave. Potter strode hurriedly towards the main road past the petrol station and entered Wisteria Walk. Here Dung tripped on the broken pavement and steadied himself on the lamp post. The noise made Potter suddenly stopped. The kid pulled his wand from his pocket and glanced around suspiciously. Dung was glad for the cloak, knowing Potter's anger as he did, who knew what hexes potter might be in the mood to cast..perhaps even an unforgivable or two. Dung wouldn't put it past the boy. He knew that Diggory wasn't Potter's victim…however people talked and anyway how was one supposed to duel with the Dark Lord and live unless you delved into the darkness yourself? Harry shook his head, returned his want to his pocked, reached for the fag trapped in his hair and lit it with a snap of his fingers; looking pissed off. The teen stood silently stoking away; his gaze shifted between number 15 and number 17…and every hundredth heart beat Potter would stare back at where Dung stood leaning against the lamp post. Both houses seemed void of occupants. Was he going to go into one for a look around? Dung wouldn't put it past Harry either. It would be quite interesting to get a look inside one of these muggle houses…Dumbledore had forbidden him from trying, he was under strict orders to stick to his guard duty. However, Dung thought, if that duty led him into a muggle house..why know?

A car drove past; music leaching ears. A dog barked sensing him; dung gripped his wand trying to recall the right spell to cause a sense of smell to be repressed. Harry must have taken it as a sign for he suddenly vaulted 15's garden fence rushed across the small yard to the tap. He stuck his head under the running water….had a good drink and a good rub of his face. Another car was approaching. Potter was back in the street before it passed. His black hair clung to his neck in long weeping strands. He looked much better now that the blood had been washed off. And he was off…angrily stamping out the streets of little Whinging; furiously flicking his cigarette bud into an unsuspecting garden. Dung let go of the lamp post and followed again, limping slightly because of the stubbed toe. The kid was practically running luckily Harry eventually slowed down as he approached the corner shop at the end of Wisteria Lane.

Dung was following at a good distance; he dodged a car as he crossed the road and sat down on the edge of the bench where two ancient muggle women were prattling idly away their shopping at their feet. The nearest muggle had her back turned on him talking in a loud, high pitched voice in quick unforgiving sentences. She smelt strongly of fish oil and her coat had an obsessive amount of cat hair on it. One of Figgy's friend if dung recalled right. Doreen something something.

"…you can't really trust John Major is what I say. I tell my Jamie. If he done it once he will do it again and we don't really want that do we? No…"

Mundungus skillfully reached into a shopping bag half considering the one muggle that was talking and her silent friend who nodded deeply waiting no doubt for her own turn. The cloak made the job both easy and hard at the same time, he held in his breath as he let his hand slip out of the cloak…grabbed hold of a tomato and pulled it back in for inspection. Out of the corner of his eye Dung saw that Harry had settled himself in among two teenage girls. Mundungus took a good bite out of the tomato; it wasn't a pint but it sure soothed his dry mouth. He watched the boy awkwardly strike up a conversation with the blond one whose boyfriend happened to be his cousins' mate and had pinned his arms behind his back earlier this afternoon. This was a new development in the Harry Potter drama probably brought on by the discomfort that drove Harry from the graveyard; talking to the local female population. A bit of tomato juice ran down Dung's chin. His foot was itchy, his toe was sore and his fingers wound themselves around the stolen knife in his pocket. It was at least 17th centaury; something nicked from Faust Caradogs home in Tralee. Supposedly it was used during the rebellion of 1612; even though it was made of soft metal this little thing could cut through stone like it were butter…would fetch something worthwhile it would.

* * *

"How's Harry Dung?" Sirius asked automatically as Mundungus's foot left the bottom stair and entered the basement. Keen, intelligent blue grey eyes met his hungrily. Black was a good bloke, always very understanding. "What did he get up to today?" Dung didn't answer immediately opting for food and watered first. The basement was lit by a dim fire and stew stood waiting for him on the stove top in the kitchen area. Remus and Sirius were sitting opposite each other; empty bowls and a savaged loaf of bread between them.

"s'at a new cardigan?" Dung asked as he sat down next to Remus. He lifted the bowl to his mouth and took a good gulp. Better than a tomato sure but it still didn't hit the spot. Lupin nodded; his elbows lifted off the table and he shifted back in his chair. Dung saw guilt and was it shame? Sirius had probably sponsored it. Dung would never understand the werewolf's objection to receiving Black's charity. The Black's were rolling in the Galleons. Dung knew there were thousands of galleons ready for the acquiring stashed somewhere in Grimmaulds. With Sirius being a fugitive and all…it wasn't like he could stroll into a shop and spend it. _Nothing to feel guilty about Remus, get over yourself_.

"Did Harry get into an argument with his uncle again?" Sirius persisted. Black was a strange man when he was sober; his voice betrayed a starvation and a deep sorrow that dung knew was not healthy. He acted like a school kid at times especially when it came to Potter; at times Black acted the old man conquered by age. Dung preferred him after a couple glasses of whiskey…much less serious. He knew that Harry looked a lot like his father. Everyone knew that Harry looked a lot like his father. Sirius however, often made it sound as if Harry was Potter Snr. Dumbledore regarded Mundungus highly….always asking his opinion about harry, Remus and Sirius…about whether Molly Weasley should be allowed to bring her kids to live at headquarters. People thought him a thief but dung knew what a mess looked like. Sirius was a mess.

"Nah, but he did get into a nasty muggle duel with his cousin," Dung muttered chewing all the time on a rather tough piece of beef. Something like pride flickered across Sirius's sullen face, a grin pushed itself onto his mouth, "Sirius mate, give us a drink then?" Dung mumbled as he stuffed a potato into his gob. News about Harry was money in Grimmauld's Place. You could push your luck with Black if you knew how to ration out the facts.

"This is the fourth time this week. He really should contain himself. He is being reckless; it is unlike him." Remus was trying to catch Sirius's eye as the latter returned from the kitchen cupboard with a bottle of his mother's rancid wine and three cups. "Perhaps you should write him a lette-"

"Dumbledore would never allow Harry to receive it moony! Besides Harry isn't reckless! If I were him i'd have ditched home for London. Besides, there is nothing wrong with a good fight; it's healthy to have a good fight every now and then. His cousin the fat idiot, totally deserves it anyway." Sirius pushed a rather generous helping of wine towards him, "James never got on with Petunia or Dursley. Those two refused to attend Lil's wedding, broke her heart. James went over that one night in October to try and reason with them. They had to get a squad down there to remove Dursley from the sink." Sirius cracked a smile that made him look almost handsome, Remus didn't respond.

A dark worry was settling between Remus' brows. He made as if he wanted to say something, thought better of it and took a sophisticated sip from his cup. Sirius's mother's wine was vile. The taste made you feel like you bones were melting. Dung didn't mind it though, it was free, it did the job and there was plenty of it. He reached for some bread, gulped down the liquid and coughed a bit as it burned its way up his nose and down his throat. "That's better." Dung said happily. He had gotten his money worth for the pewter, his pocket jingled with the five galleons 2 Sickles. He watched Sirius pour more wine for the table. A bit fast tonight, Dung thought.

"Dumbledore should let us visit, or at least allow us to take over some of the watch." Remus spoke softly, "I have so many old photo albums I need to show him, I also have some personal effects of Prongs' that he might be interested in. I was hoping of giving it to him before he went back to Hogwarts."

"You have their stuff?" Sirius questioned eyebrows raised. Dung tried to catch Remus's eye. The last thing he needed was to have Sirius curse him to bits. Who knew how sentimental the mutt was. Remus had noticed Dung's attempts to communicate. He smiled at Dung and turned back to Sirius.

"Clothes mostly," the wolf muttered, "a few pieces of furniture…James's old school trunk and lily's books. The rest…the rest I sold off over the years." Remus finished apologetically. Relief. It wasn't Lupin's fault really. It was a shitty thing that had to happen…a man has to eat. Sirius nodded. Empty eyes comprehending. Lupin took another sip "Gods Padfoot this stuff is shite!" he muttered into the mug. Change of topic.

"The tragic thing is how dear she paid per bottle." Sirius agreed accepting the change and committing to it, "My great uncle's cousin, Tiberius Odgen, had a crazy grandson who used to brew wine in a cauldron with steam distilled weeds he collected from his garden. It can get you rip roaring drunk, no hangover."

"Tiberius Odgen…" Dung muttered, "you wouldn't happen to have some special reserve Odgen's Firewhiskey lying around here would you Sirius, the stuff made before the sixties?" That would fetch a galleon or two. It was shocking how well Black used to be connected in the wizarding community; smack in the middle of the who's who. Sirius gave him a skeptical look and shook his head as he poured a third cup.

"Hang on." Remus said smacking his lips together and eyeing the bottle suspiciously, "That night in fourth year after the moon, towards the end, after you and peter made copies of Snape's diary and permanent sticky charmed it to the walls of the second corridor, that night when you skipped detention and you, I and James snuck into the Hufflepuff girls dormitories and got drunk with Kipperly Strum, Elspeth-Jane Messpiper and their friend – the one with the frizzy hair…th-"

"Ha! I had forgotten about that." Sirius nodded. The memory spread life into his eyes. These gained a glimmer in the low light. He nodded with a sly grin, "That was an historic night." Sirius winked at Dung, suddenly the life-of-the-party Sirius Dung knew from the First Order. Dung offered a laugh. Remus' cheeks flushed a bit before he pinned Sirius with a defiant smile and maintained steady steely eye contact. "You dated her, Kipperly, for two months after that if I am correct? Got suspended for a week when you were caught trying to slip a forgetful potion into her pumpkin juice…", Sirius remarked letting it hang.

Dung would leave here soon and meet Dumbledore in Hogsmead to deliver his report. The headmaster would definitely buy him his pint. _I should finish up and be on my way_ , Dung thought, _the last bit of news could be given no_ w. He cleared his throat interrupting the hollow reminiscing which, "Harry was chatting up these two girls at some point tonight. Thinks he really likes this one blond who lives four doors down from his aunt's place. She's not that bad, a bit chubby you know but got a clean face. Real slag too-is always good if you're his age…".

Sirius chocked a bit on his wine. Remus seemed slightly distressed by the development. It wasn't the reaction Dung would have expected. Dung knew that after meetings members lingered to discuss Harry in detail. Dung knew all the back alleys, pubs and wizard communities spent most of their time speculating over potter in one way or another. Dung would have expected some curiosity leading to some good gossip. Whatever. He could sell the story to witch weekly and make a killing, take a couple of pictures. Potter was a hot topic and would sell well.

"You know," Remus broke the silence somewhat reluctantly, "I always thought that Harry had a bit of a thing for Hermione. There was that article last year in the prophet and if it wasn't written by Skeeter I would have believed it. When I taught at Hogwarts there were many rumors flying around about Harry. There is a certain amount of fame to his shadow. More than once I saw girls stare at him, giggle when he walks past. The more I spoke to him though, the more I realized how reserved and oblivious Harry is. He used to spend most of his time quietly skulking around Hogwarts at night using our map or flying alone after hours practicing for a Quiditch game. I wouldn't even have guessed that Harry is into girls." Remus regarded Dung with solemn curiosity, "What did they talk about?"

In truth, Dung had apparated to Knockturn Alley shortly after he had finished eating the tomato. Tonks was supposed to have relieved him of his post at noon but didn't show up and never sent a word along about it. It wouldn't do to tell Remus and Sirius this. They were very protective of the boy. Got into a couple of heated arguments during meetings the past few weeks. Dung chose his words carefully, "I was quite a ways off. They eventually left."

"Together? All three of them?" Sirius questioned skeptically.

Mundungus nodded, the lies coming easy at his age, "yeah they went back to his aunt's house where I left them – speaking of leaving I must be going gents." He drained the last of the cats piss and nodded to them each in turn before rushing out the kitchen up the stairs and on his way to meet Dumbledore. As he tip toed towards the door he looked at his pocket watch cursing slightly. He was a good half an hour late to meet the Headmaster. He fumbled with the door knob. The wine was hard at work in his body.

* * *

Remus heard Mundungus close the door behind him. The house was quiet; occupied by only Sirius and himself tonight. Harry Potter taking two muggle girls home…knowing Harry it was more likely that Dung was lying about the entire thing. Probably some illogical and badly executed failed tactic meant to get Sirius to give up more of his family's treasures and trinkets. The Order crowd that frequented Grimmaulds rarely spoke about anything other than Harry Potter. The Daily Prophet and other Wizarding Media (including the Wizard Wireless and even _TransfigurationToday_ ) spoke about little else but Harry Potter. Remus felt sorry for the kid. He couldn't imagine so many people speculating about his mental health, his sexual orientation and conquests, the very goodness of his character; Harry's good name was being dragged properly through the mud. Nobody was defending him. All over Britain magic folk were gossiping about what the Boy Who Lived had turned into because of fame and his upbringing with the muggles. Remus was already getting to the latter stages of tipsy and took another cup of wine from the bottle thinking always about James's son.

" I suppose we should talk to Harry and find out how much of this girl thing is true?" Sirius yawned, breaking the silence; his arms out above his head in a stretch then sinking with him further into the chair. Sirius then started picking at his teeth; in the firelight he looked almost as young as he had before Azkaban, as relaxed as he had at school. The shadows hiding his wrinkled and sunken face added to that perception...they provided space for his imagination and memory to add in all that was lacking. The question was rhetorical of course; Remus offered a shrug anyway…who knew when Dumbledore would allow Harry to come to Headquarters. It certainly would free up Order resources…and it would be _nice._ It would be _nice_ to spend more time with James' son. It was terrible to admit how little Remus knew about his best friends' kid. Sitting on the sidelines having to hear second hand about how Harry had been getting into fights, having nightmares, sat around graveyards crying all day. It would be _nice_ to see firsthand, to get involved and to talk to the boy. James once did so much to save Remus from that sort of loneliness and anger. How deeply Remus wished he could return the favor. How _nice_ it would be to try.

"Did you read the French paper this morning?" Sirius muttered through a humorless smile and not waiting for an answer again, " A student from Beauxbatons gave an interview about her impression and interaction with Harry. A lot of trash about his temper and about how he mutters to himself in corridors; she accused Harry of killing Cedric Diggory and spun a long story about the many times she overheard Harry tell someone how much he hated Cedric. Apparently he has a crush on Cedric's girlfriend."

"Cho Chang." Remus nodded, "Ravenclaw. She's a year older than Harry; a bit of a flake in my opinion. I am told that at the Yule Ball Harry spent most of his time staring at Hermione or dancing with his date, a witch called Parvati Patil." His eyes were getting heavy. His body was still weak from the recent full moon. Sirius seemed truly interested in the topic of Harry's love life. Perhaps concern over the things he had been reading and hearing the past month had put him to the task. But Remus thought it rude to add to the speculation; it didn't matter anyway. In all likelihood Harry would not live long enough to correct the world's perceptions of him. Harry might not live to be twenty. The thought was a cold thing. All of hell seemed bent on killing Harry Potter and the most powerful wizard in Britain's best strategy was to keep the kid in the dark. Not kid! He corrected his mind. How could Harry still be a kid after what he had lived through last year? "I was thinking that perhaps we should tell Harry about the Department of Mysteries. He always seems to get into the thick of things anyway- has a knack for it. There is no point keeping him in the dark; Harry isn't a child anymore."

"Dumbledore won't allow it. He wants to keep Harry safe." Sirius sneered. His angry voice pushed Remus' comment aside simply and he returned to his previous train of thought tenaciously, "You still think Harry is, you know, gay?" Sirius continued. "All this rubbish they write in the prophet…Bull! Skeeter has shut up at last at least. Hermione is a clever witch. To spite what that Dumstrang student claimed in that one Russian magazine Kingsley forwarded us...There is still a chance that Harry is into girls...He is just-" Sirius shifted uncomfortably, "He is just living his life, getting into a couple fights you know?", and then something else came into his voice. "You know Moony," Angry grey eyes flickered up and met him then; his voice heavy with emotion, "It wasn't supposed to be this way." Sirius's fist went white around the cup. "We weren't supposed to get to know James's son from second hand accounts of thieves who ditch their duties to watch over him to do God knows what! We weren't supposed to read about Harry in the papers and speculate about what girls he likes. It- it wasn't – God it wasn't supposed to be this way..." Padfoot left the table then, hiding a tear that had formed and swinging what remained of the wine carelessly clutched in his hand.

Up the staircase, heavy angry footfalls fell; the empty house of Black amplifying his movements as he went, announcing them to the stars above. Were it not for the enchantments on the house, who knew what the muggles households surrounding them would have heard at night? A werewolf locked up in the drawing room? A drunken man in his thirties crying; throwing things in rage? The portrait of the bitch Black screaming all kinds of profanity for kicks? The oak library door on the first floor slammed shut. That's were Sirius's father had kept the hard liquor. Sirius was doing that often these days; regularly since he had settled down in Grimmaulds place. He would take to locking himself up for a cry in some room or another. How he must hate it to be back here. Remus recalled Sirius's many rotten recollections during their youth about the dark years he spent in his parents' home.

The kitchen table was long and empty, the fire burning low. It was odd that only a year ago Sirius was on the run and would often show up at his cottage. They would spend the evenings talking about all the things that happened while Sirius was in Azkaban. The legislation passed, the deaths and the changes to the ministry…they would talk very little about Harry, other than their encounters with him in 1993/1994. They would go on hunts to find Peter; these were never fruitful. There was always the hope that things could be worked out; that after Sirius had his name cleared Harry would become part of the pack. Sirius had even made plans to help Harry become an animagus; dead set on recreating their childhood monthly outings with a Harry in the stead of James. It was a fantastic fantasy. One Remus was guilty of desiring very much. He had had more time to grow up than Padfoot had. When one grows into adulthood the world of wild free action shrinks to a pin. It became less satisfying to live only for your own hearts gratification. Somehow the need to fit into the greater scheme of things becomes more important. The past year had Remus close to the bliss of forgotten what it was like to be an adult…he had almost slipped back into the euphoric freedom of childhood friendship. The past year was over now. Things had changed bringing him back to sobriety.

After Voldemort's return, those sorts of conversations were no longer passing between him and Sirius. There was no more talk about a future of the wolf pack; of initiating a new member into the Marauders. When they spoke now it was order business and Harry. When they drank they would torture each other with endless remembrances of James and Lily. Often, Remus would avoid making trips to Grimmaulds place. Tonight though, there was nowhere else for him. Four months ago he was pushed by lack of employment to part with his home; the only way Remus could manage to hold onto his assets was to rent out his cottage to a muggle family. Then it was a girlfriend's house till that whole thing fell through. Since then he had been involved in the Order; he would spend much time mapping out the underworld of Wizard Britain. The vampires, werewolves those goblins not employed by the bank. Those creatures that lurked in the hidden forests and underground communities…they all knew of Voldermort's return and most knew of Remus' allegiance to Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. This makes his time spent in those communities either very tough or very easy. The underworld was divided along straight lines: a full quarter opposed the dark Lord which was more than expected. The time he spent there now he half heartedly sill hoped to run into Wormtail. He never seemed to manage it.

The ministry of magic was in a tight spot of bother. The hitwizards and warden of Azkaban had been found kissed not a week ago. The Dementors had left en masse; a few lingered. It was an eerie thing apparently. Tonks had told him so, having been one of those to investigate. _Tonks_. The Department of Law enforcement were stretching themselves thin trying to account for various uprising in the non wizard communities across Britain. A strong denial seems to have been cast over top ranking officials. Those who had realized things were out of hand often ignored such realizations; since the truth was too horrible they would rather believe a badly spun lie. It was infantile…but Remus understood in part. The world felt as dark as it did before James and Lily's death. It was as if the last fourteen years had been a dream. If only he could turn his eyes towards the kitchen and see James and Lily dancing. If only Frank and Edger were arguing over whom in society were death eaters over a glass of whiskey whilst a pregnant Alice finished her paper work. If only he could turn his head and see Gideon and Fabian writing encrypted messages to their sister; they would have drawn chairs and camped around the fireplace with quills, parchment and block of cheese at which they would scrape with knives as it melted all the while talking in low voices about their children and families. And Dorcus with her hand in his would be laughing at something Marlene, Benjy and Peter were arguing about. It hurt to remember these people. _Dorcus_. The new Order was similar. Perhaps it would have a similar end.

As for Harry's sexuality, which was being questioned and assaulted mercilessly by the foreign wizard press who weekly would publish accounts of Dumstrang and Beauxbatons students alleging all sorts of love triangle explanations for Cedrics death. The particular article that had Sirius worried was a rather detailed account of a possible romance between Harry and Cedric gone bad. He lay his head onto the wooden table top and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimed: see previous.

* * *

 **Dudley demented** **indefinitely**

He couldn't move. Harry knew that it would be good to move now. But he _couldn't_. He thought about running away to the Burrow or Hermione's house even. When the Dursley's realised that there was no muggle cure for what had happened to their son they would be back. That meant more pain and possible death. Harry couldn't see too well. His glasses were smashed to bits on the floor somewhere. His eyes preferred remaining hidden behind lids. His heart beat furiously. He _had_ to leave. _Fear_.

Harry wouldn't put it past his uncle to kill him. The man had had a good go at it before they left. Aunt Petunia was a puddle of fear and anger…and the way she had looked at him before she closed the door, blocking his view of a bloodied fisted Vernon dragging a soulless Dudley away, made Harry's stomach clench cold. He had never truly been afraid of his aunt and uncle before. Now it was over…their relationship had always been complicated but now it was over. He would be more welcomed at the Malfoy's. Before….Petunia had always had softness in her face for him somewhere. Her words had been cruel, yes, but she had never given him any reason to suspect that she would want to see him dead. He wanted desperately to get up now; his body wasn't responding. He needed to pack and leave before they got back. How long had they been gone? He needed to start moving. He could take the train and bus to Hermione's. He had to get up now. He willed his arm to move. He willed his head to rise. He was cold though and shaking. It was no use.

How awful it all was. Seeing what he had seen. The two Dementors just showed up in little Whinging. Harry, not managing to produce the stag patronus on time, had been too late to save Dudley. His bruised face scrunched up at the sudden pain. He _could_ have prevented this. If he could just have gotten a good memory into his mind; he had so many to choose from. He _should_ have prevented this. What an _evil_ thing it was to look on; Dudley reduced to lifeless vessel. Harry's mind plagued him with thoughts that something sinister had replaced Dudley inside the big bulky body. Perhaps the thing had attacked Vernon and Petunia on the way to the hospital. Perhaps they were dead and _it_ was now running wild through the English countryside. Eyes lifeless. He had tried to get the _thing_ on its feet and to carry his cousin home but nothing in _that body_ stirred to help him. As if it was against him. _The body_ seemed perfectly content to just lie there. Its eyes were glassy...like Cedric. Harry cringed. Dudley was like Cedric only _still breathing_. The thought of Cedric caused a panic to rise in him. In addition Harry felt fear for his life now. If Voldermort found him like this…he would be dead quickly. He had to leave….but his legs wouldn't move.

Harry didn't know how long he lay there. He knew he was crying…he knew he had to get away. His shoulders were shaking and he was shivering. Cold sweat droplets on his face mingled with the tears as they slid onto the floor and dampened the carpet. A deep shame was pooling inside of him. A self loathing was building in his heart. This was _his fault_. He deserved to die here. Harry choked a couple of times on the blood that accumulated on the side of his mouth. He had bitten his way through a good chuck of his lip during one of his uncle's initial blows as the man tried to wring truth out of him.

He tried again to move. He concentrated on moving his arm…he managed it. A thing foreign to him suddenly moved closer and pawed at his eyes; it was strange that he still had a hand. His entire boy felt unfamiliar to him. His arm had pushed him off the floor and now that he had started moving the trance was broken. It felt as if a bludger had broken his rib cage and as Harry threw things into his trunk he gasped for air and cringed every time he did so. His room was dark and his blurred vision added a headache to the pain of his damaged jaw and ruined face. His hands shook as they haphazardly dumped books, parchment and clothes into his trunk. Why did he let his room become such a mess?

Suddenly the sound of several loud cracks downstairs. Panic added its burden to the emotions screaming against his soul. _This was it. Deatheaters_. It was the best he could do to run his face painfully on one of his school robes; hiding the worst of the tears behind a swelling face. It occurred to Harry then that His wand was somewhere downstairs. He was in no state to fight anyway. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe and he was cold with shock at what happened. He tried taking several painful breaths and slowly sank back against the bedroom wall. His attention was on listening for the creaking stairs. His mind blank. He couldn't defend himself and he was too hurt to run away. _This was it_ and _it was over_. He wouldn't get to go back to Hogwarts, he wouldn't live to see fifteen. His imagination brought up pictures of the graveyard…Voldermorts spider fingers curling around their wands and his taunting face bright with hatred…he wouldn't be found cowering though.

Harry reached with shaking hands for the carton of Dudley's cigarettes and opened up a pack. It hurt him then to think about anything belonging to Dudley; he fought off another wave of tears. Voices downstairs. They were taking their time. Harry carefully closed the lid of his trunk and lit up as the first person hit the creaking stair. He wouldn't be found cowering. He forced thoughts of bravery into his mind; shouting at it to calm down. His fingers were shaking thought. _Shame_ again. He had thought about dying this entire summer. He had dreamt about Cedric and part of him had wished he had died in the graveyard instead. He leaned back into the wall and tried his best to look defiant. To look _cool_. He coughed up blood; swallowed it again. Shadows were appearing against the hallway wall outside his bedroom. Somebody had lit a wand. Harry couldn't make out the shapes but saw blurs of light move outside. Footsteps fell on the landing; voices in hushed tones were right outside his door. Light filled the room. Harry took a drag and looked up to meet the blurred figures in his room. His heart racing.

"-gods-" a man's voice cursed. His voice was bottomless. A wand being raised high. It took all of Harry's resolve not to cringe away. No green flash of light came though.

"Harry Potter?" another asked in what sounded like disbelief. He had never heard these voices before. They weren't heard in the graveyard.

A figure approached and reached out for his face. Harry flinched away. "Here you go kid." A hand firmly took hold of his head; fingers pressing into his throbbing headache. A second hand slid his repaired glasses onto his swollen face. Harry saw brown eyes look worriedly at him from within an expression of shock. A grey bearded wizard with short spiky hair and half a left ear stared at him. "Mr. Potter, is this your wand?" the man asked as he slowly pulled Harry's wand from a pocket, "We found it downstairs."

Harry coughed again eyes leaking. Relief spreading. Relief melting his body; angst falling away leaving only the numb ach in his side and dull pain of a broken face. They weren't here to kill him. He nodded slowly and made to reach for it but the man pulled it back into the pocket. "Mr. Potter we are here to escort you to the Ministry of Magic by command of the Minister himself."

 _Confusion_. This was all very strange. What on earth could Fudge want with him. Didn't they know about the dementors. "Why?" his raspy voice managed. He lazily put out cigarette against his trunk and slowly gathered himself to his knees for a shaky rise on his feet. He flinched as he did so and ignored the notice of the other wizards in the room. There were four of them. A man leaned lazily against the doorpost his eyes very slowly scanned Harry's room. He was the one who hadn't yet spoken. None of them had bothered to introduce themselves.

"Underage magic and in a public local in the sight of a muggle." The half eared man said eyeing with disbelief the dribble of blood that was oozing out of Harry's mouth. "Come on son, up you get."

Harry was heaved onto the balls of his feet by the man who luckily didn't let go of his t-shirt. Dizziness and nausea. As he took a step to the door his broken ankle caved beneath him and he fell caught by the hands of a tall African American wizard with gold loop earrings.

* * *

"-my boy, there are no dementors in Surrey. We've had quite enough of it all Harry. All these fantastic stories you and Dumbledore have been feeding the press. Can't you see that there is simply something wrong with your behaviour?" Fudge was saying. A dozen people were lining the walls of the office. It was full of fine trimming; it belonged to Rufus Scrimgeour who was seated on Harry's right in a green armchair. He seemed a deeply unpleasant sort of fellow; he was scrutinizing the hell out of Harry. Every time Harry moved him head an inch he felt the man's eyes follow him. Susan Bones's aunt sat on Harry's left in a similar armchair; her nightgown had yellow pigs on it and to be honest Harry could see she was not impressed by the entire affair. A woman in a horrible fluffy pink Cardigan stood prim and proper next to the fire place. There was a glee in her eyes that made Harry wants to see her fall into it. Fudge was in purple robes behind the desk, in all his state, talking down to him in a mock Dumbledore-ish way. "-doing magic in full view of a muggle – Harry we have rules that are there to protect us and you are not exempt from keeping them just because of a bit of fame – "

Harry tilted his head back and swallowed some of the blood that was draining down his throat flowing freely from his broken nose. He was focussing on his breathing which was getting more difficult by the minute. He must have been here for an hour already. There was a door ajar in the corner and through it Harry could spy what looked like a potions store. He would give anything to get something to help him breath. His hands were bound and chained to the chairs arm. If he could just get a wand he could fix his nose and have a go at mending his ribs. From what Harry had gathered he was in deep trouble. The first thirty minutes of this "trial" he had tried his best to tell them about the dementors and his cousin…but the bitch in pink had _silencio'd_ him and then the Fudge's lecture began.

"-expelled from Hogwarts. Think about how your actions are reflecting on you but not just you Harry, the entire wizarding community is in an uproar over your behaviour. It reflects badly on England you see when you lie-"

Harry bounced his foot on the floor. He couldn't believe all this crap was happening. He half wished it was death eaters that had reached him first. Where was Dumbledore? Why was nobody helping him or even letting him talk? What was this!? Fudge had called him crazy and egotistical at least a dozen times a piece and had accused Harry of lying at least a hundred times since Harry was silenced. Bones and Scrimgeour had not spoken past an introduction and the bitch in pink kept gloating by the fireplace. Harry was tired; his body drained from all he had been through. And angry…it was unfair.

"-my boy lying is not something you can get away with anymore! After Cedric-"

Harry's eyes jumped to Fudge's face in anger. He suddenly understood. Revelation hit him. He was tired of feeling and yet more emotion flooded into him. He felt betrayed, he felt misunderstood and he felt furious. Fudge who had agreed with his version of events that night of Cedric's murder had defected to some crazy view that Harry had lied about it; that Voldermort hadn't returned; that Harry was touched in the head and Dumbledore was some senile old man. The injustice of it all… then something else was moving inside of Harry's chest. His scar started to itch. He _hated_ this. He didn't _deserve_ this. A noise built up in his ear. A spell whispered into his mind. But the scar and the voice were all drowned out by something else….a high pitched straining sound of something ready to snap. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Scrimgeour leaned back in his chair and the man's face become sanskrit. Harry could no longer hear Fudge but felt a deep annoyance a deep hatred at the thought of the man stir in him. He was livid suddenly. There was no sound but the straining. An energy was building in him feeling much like heartburn. The room itself seemed to be living.

"-its bad enough the boy died in the maze. But your stories Harry, always with your incredible fibs abo-" Fudge didn't finish the story. His scream filled the office followed by the yelling of orders by the woman in pink with the frog face. The desk snapped in two and the chain around Harry's wrists slipped off as if they were a silk sash. Harry lost consciousness shortly after he got to his feet. He was going to take Fudge's wand and do _something_. Three stunners stopped him though, hitting him in the back. He fell forward into oblivion. Sweet dark dreamless space embraced him.

* * *

Tonks had been looking forward to this since she joined the Order a month ago: meeting Harry Potter. She had seen him once when she was a girl and he was a baby. He looked a right mess at the moment though. Unkempt hair mangled with blood sticking up at odd angles in thick dirty clumps. Proudfoot's desk had been turned into a makeshift bed slash operating table for the knocked out teen. The department of magical law enforcement was lit and security wizards ran around after Umbridge's orders; activity which was unusual for midnight. She did not like being cut out a conversation and she did not like it when people opposed her orders. The press had gathered outside. Rufus was busy giving a statement. Down the corridor in the Head's office Tonks could year Dumbledore _shouting_ at Fudge. The headmaster had arrived just in time to oppose Dolores's insistence on shipping Harry off to Nurmengard on charges of torture and attempted murder.

Kingsley was busy mending Harry's face with his wand. He was one of the men who had been sent to fetch Harry from his relatives' home. Everyone present, about twenty of them summoned to the ministry that night, was gathered around the cubicle. Four different conversations about Harry Potter meshed together in Tonks' mind as she kept a straight face handing Kingsley bandages and potions as asked. He had done a good job to mend the ribs, fix the nose and reset the jaw. He had removed Harry's shirt to try and heal some of the bruised skin and muscle; from all the fights Tonks had seen and heard Harry getting into over the summer she wasn't surprised that he was purple, blue and green all over. The stunners were a bit aggressive perhaps and had cut slightly into Harry's back. Sirius would be worried. Who knows how he would react when they smuggled Harry into Grimmauld's later tonight. Tonks was actually quite curious. It was the talk of the Order that Sirius thought Harry was James Potter.

"-his blood was all over the carpet and walls. Potters face was knocked in. No magical residue was definitely a muggle duel-"

" - cousin has definitely been kissed -"

" – Potter transfigured the chains and cast a cruciatus on Fudge without a wand. You could feel the room shake with wild magic –"

"Scrimgeour got antsy towards the end there…did you see the way he backed into his chair and reached for his wand?"

"-the boy has been taken to St. Mungo's but there is nothing that can be done, its too-"

"-should reconsider how Diggory died. Perhaps there is truth to the papers-"

"-minister must have known about the demetors. The cousin is proof that the boy wasn't lying. What is Fudge playing at?"

Harry groaned. Their chatter died down quickly; the sound of Dolores' barking, Dumbledore's shouting and the clicking of cameras and muttering of reported in the corridor outside continued.

Tonks looked reached timidly for the bandaged head and gently placed her hand on a patch of hair that shot through Kingsley's war style patch up job. Harry Potter, the boy who lived. He had killed a great dark wizard as a baby and had won the triwizard tournament as the first ever fourth champion. Harry Potter, who the Weird Sisters wrote a song about released not two weeks ago. Everyone in the world knew Harry Potter. Knew his story. How strange it was that this was it. This beaten up, thin 14 year old was the subject of so much attention.

Tonks knew a different, slightly less impressive character. Always angry, always fighting and creepily wanking off at the sight of his aunt working in the garden. There was little that would endear Harry to Tonks, in fact she was quite put off by the boy. Incredibly Dumbledore held Harry in great esteem even during reports of his childish and creepy behavior. A troubled kid if ever there was one. During her training, they had regular class about profiling dark wizards. Harry checked many boxes. He was clearly disturbed. Tonks recalled a guard duty where the boy fell asleep in the park and woke up howling having wet himself. It happened late at night with no other witnesses but it was embarrassing. The shock she saw on his face, the shame. His nightmares persisted, getting worse as the summer progressed. Dung, herself and Macrinus Urquart were the only three Dumbledore assigned to this particular order duty. They each reported to Dumbledore separately. The headmaster wanted detailed accounts of all Harry's doings. It was embarrassing relaying the information to the old man who appeared to disregard all the psychologically disturbing symptoms.

She cringed in meetings when these topics were discussed in an off hand way by Dumbledore. The Order knew Harry's secrets and the disillusionment was painful. It would have been nicer to find that Harry was all the best of the gossip. That he was remarkably intelligent, gifted, composed and handsome. It would have been easier to have trust in Dumbledore's insistence that Harry was important to ending the war. Tonks would have preferred it.

He coughed and blood gurgled in his through. His eyes opened and his head turned beneath her fingers towards her body projecting sick onto her robes. Kingsley reached out to stead him abandoning the paste he was rubbing into Harry's bruises. "Easy Harry." The kid flinched away.

"Don't try anything Potter," Proudfoot warned from the cubicle partition, we will take you down if you do.

The voices fell to a hush. Faces, still disillusioned, stared with awe and suspicion over the cubicles. Harry nervously nodded. Proudfoot had been one of the team sent to arrest him. The old man could throw a threat. Harry nodded and his eyes slowly settled on Tonks' face. Recognition. "My cousin." his voice broke as he spoke and Tonks quickly averted her gaze as she saw his eyebrows lift in surprise.

"There is nothing that can be done for him." Tonks replied quickly stepping back making a point of portraying disgust at the blood and bile on her robes. It smelt bad. "I am sorry Harry, your cousin has been kissed, there is nothing anyone can do for him." She muttered unsympathetically used a half written report Proudfoot had abandoned to wipe some of the gunk. Proudfoot shot her an annoyed look but kept his cool.

She made a show of tossing the sick covered report to a bin using the time to changed her eye color from a dull blue to a striking blue. It would be very bad if Harry was allowed to realise he knew her and equally bad if anyone deduced Harry was halfway to recognizing her. The undercover gig was Dumbledore's idea. She would infiltrate Dudley's friendship group as a muggle recently moved to Little Winging from a village in Wales. She would gather as much information about Harry's childhood. At first it sounded cool. She regretted agreeing to the operation.

"Do i know you?" Harry asked finally but with a flash of her not-so-common eyes the recognition was silenced. Harry looked away, "sorry, i thought you reminded me of this girl i know." The silence of the other Aurors gathered and the intensity of their stares troubled Harry. He fidgeted his his bloody sleeve and bit his swollen lip. He dropped eye contact and stared at his worn out shoes.


End file.
